The Profound Bond
by nerd girl nithagria
Summary: Destiel AU: Dean is a Fed trying to keep his head down and stay out of trouble, but when he get's newbie Castiel as a partner, things might start getting complicated. His friend Sam has always had his back, but what can Sam do in THIS mess of a situation? Based off the trailer by k9lover27
1. Chapter 1

**The Beginning**

The girl they were questioning—Dean was pretty sure her name was Charlie—shrugged a shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Jo and I were close, but only in through LARPing. I never asked her about her personal life and she never shared."

Dean did his best to smile sympathetically, but he wasn't sure he pulled it off. He was tired, there was a girl missing, probably dead, and she had essentially no friends who knew anything whatsoever about her real life. Charlie had been his last hope. "All right, well, if you think of anything, call me, OK?" He tried to hand her his card, but she just slid past him, dumping the crown she'd been playing with on his head.

"Sorry, but I don't think I will."

Dean sighed and Sam, who had tagged along because Dean had called asking for his help, chuckled.

"You can't always get what you want, Dean." He said.

Dean massaged his temples as they walked out. "Yeah, but once, just once, I'd like to take a case that wasn't…" he trailed off, uncertain of how to phrase what he was thinking.

"Weird?" Sam suggested. When Dean nodded, he laughed. "Look, Dean, if you don't want them to give you the wackadoodle cases, you shouldn't be so good at solving them."

They came up to their car, which they had parked at the edge of the LARPers camp and Dean pulled his door open with a little more force than necessary. "It not that I _want _to be good at them, it's just…I look at these people and I just know what it is. I just understand how their freaky little minds work."

Sam slid into the passenger seat, still chuckling. "Yeah, you do, don't you?"

"Oh, shut that prissy little mouth of yours, why don't you?" Dean snapped, turning up the radio as loud as he could as he pulled away.

After Dean had dropped Sam off at the motel they were staying at, he headed out for a drink. With the day he was having, he strongly felt he deserved it. Sam had declined. He had a girlfriend back in D.C. and he had wanted to Skype with her or something. Dean really didn't want to get into the mechanics of relationships with Sam.

Not that Dean didn't like the kid. Sam was a good agent, a few years back, when he'd first joined the program, he'd shadowed Dean, and the two had formed a close bond. Sam knew Dean wasn't straight, and he didn't care. He was one of the few people that Dean had ever met that wasn't bothered by sexual orientation and all the trouble that came with it. He seemed to understand that Dean wanted to just be Dean and not get muddled up with a defined by the kind of people he liked.

He ran through his texts to see if there was anything from anybody and reviewed notes from the case. Across the room, he could feel somebody staring at him. He glanced up, trying to see who would take interest in a guy in a rumpled suit with too much tension in his shoulders.

Sitting at the bar, a guy with a fruity orange drink _with an honest-to-God umbrella in it_ smiled shyly and waved. He had dark hair, a beard that made him look like a rabbi, and kind laughing eyes. In short, he was kinda cute.

Dean swallowed and went back to work. It'd been a long time since he'd been hit on. God, not since college at least, and he wasn't quite sure how to respond. On one hand, he was on a case and he took his job very seriously. It seemed wildly inappropriate to start something when he had a greater purpose to fulfill. On the other hand…

He didn't even want to think about the other hand.

"Screw it," he muttered to himself. He gathered up his stuff an tried to muster a cool saunter over to staring, semi-cute boy.

"Can I, uh, help you with something" He asked. He coughed into his fist. He was nervous. His voice sounded weirdly husky.

The kid raised his eyebrows. "Are you Agent Singer? I saw you talking to Charlie earlier today."

Dean wanted to kick himself. Of course this kid was talking about the case, Why on earth would he be interested in Dean, of all people? Sure, the drink had been misleading, but to each their own. He coughed again, trying to cover up his blunder.

"Oh. Yeah of course. Why? Do you have information—"

"About Jo?" He finished. He leaned in closer. Dean couldn't help but notice he smelled a little bit like fresh oranges, which wasn't an altogether terrible smell. "Well I wouldn't say it's information, per se, but she and I totally hooked up one day during a tournament in the Queen's tent. She was hot. She wouldn't talk about herself at all, but Sweet Jesus, did she know her way around bed. I bet she had Daddy issues or something. Maybe that's a lead for ya."

Dean pinched his lips together. "Thanks. I'll, ah. I'll keep that in mind."

The kid leaned back, looking smug. "You have a good night," He called as Dean started walking away.

"You—"he started. His phone started buzzing in his pocket and in his blunder to pull it out and get out of there, he bumped into a table. Why could he never be as smooth as he wanted to be? "You have a—" Everyone was staring now. "Okay," he finished lamely in reply.

He couldn't get out of there fast enough. He could hear the damn kid laughing as he left the bar.

He pulled his phone out and saw it was Sam calling. He called him back as he started walking down the street. "Hey," He said. "Sorry, there was a...gay thing."

"A gay thing?" Sam replied. "Well that's much more interesting than what I was going to say. Do tell."

"It was nothing," Dean quickly amended. "There was a guy. I thought he was gay. He wasn't. He just knew that I was working in Jo's case and thought his experience with bedding her might prove to be helpful."

"Well that's…nice?"

Dean snorted. "I don't even know anymore, man. Anyways. What were you calling about?"

"I think I'm going to ask Jess to marry me." Sam said.

"Oh. Wow. That's…big news."

Sam sort of laughed. Dean could picture him running his hand through his mop of hair. "I know, but, I love her, Dean. I really do. We've been dating for two years now and I'm ready to take this step." His voice had a lot more conviction towards the end. Dean knew how Sam was. The more set and used to an idea Sam got, the more determined he became to see it through.

"Well, Sammy, congratulations."

"Don't call me 'Sammy'." Sam said automatically. "Do you really think she'll say yes?"

"I said 'congratulations', didn't I? Look, you said it yourself. You and Jess have been dating for ages now. You moved in together, what? Nine months ago?"

"It's been a year now, actually."

"Shoot, that long? Listen, Sammy. You're ready for this. I know you are and she's going to say yes because she loves you too."

"Thanks, Dean. Hey, listen, have you been OK lately? I know this case has you stressed out—"

"Sammy," Dean growled.

"—and I know you" he coughed awkwardly, "haven't exactly been seeing anyone lately. But I just wanted to say—"

Dean closed his eyes and stopped for a moment. As a general rule, he did his best to avoid talking about himself and his feelings. It was just for the best, usually. "Look, Sam, I'm fine. I mean, trust me. This life? You can't afford attachments. You just gotta…let go. The FBI is all work, no play. Isn't that what I told you when we met?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Sam said. "Just know that if you need to talk, I'm here for you, OK?"

"Yeah, OK." Dean grumbled. Sam was like a little brother to him. They'd been working a case once and Dean had literally pushed him out of the path of a bullet. If he had been talking to anyone else, he definitely would have hung up his phone by now.

"I love you, Dean," Sam said.

"Yeah, love you too, Little Brother," Dean said. And then he hung up, because this conversation was getting way too old.


	2. Chapter 2

**Maybe a month later.**

"Agent Singer?" Henry, the Unit Chief, called. Dean looked up from his proofread of the paperwork he had just finished filling out. The Jo Harvelle case had gone cold, which infuriated Dean to no end, but he was trying to not let it get the best of him. Most people had already left the office, and he already had his coat on.

Great, Dean thought as he stood up and stared walking towards Henry's office. I'm in trouble for not fixing this.

Henry held open the door for him as Dean walked in.

"Have a seat, Dean," he said.

Sam was already there, looking slightly awkward. He didn't look up as Dean walked in. He was so in trouble. There was a massive shield hanging on the back wall. To say Henry had a thing for Medieval warfare was putting it lightly.

"Look, Henry," he started.

Henry held up his hand to silence him. "I don't want to hear it Dean. Please just, sit down. This isn't about the Jo Harvelle case, just so you know. Look, you're a good agent, Dean, and we can't catch every bad guy the first time around. No one's holding this against you; I just want you to know that."

Dean shrugged. He didn't really have anything to say to that.

"I wanted to talk to you because you're getting reassigned."

"Reassigned!" Dean shouted. "Look, Henry, I know that this last case wasn't my best, but you just said yourself that there's not much—"

Henry held up his hand again and Dean shut his mouth. "You're reassignment has nothing to do with the Jo Harvelle case, Dean. Frankly, it has more to do with your past work."

"I beg your pardon?" Dean asked.

Henry nodded at Sam. "I was just reviewing with Agent Winchester here your field record, and I must say, it's most impressive."

Dean gaped at Henry. "My…my field record, sir?"

"Yep. We're going to move you over to Counterproliferation. We feel that your skills would be better put to work in that department."

"What about my work here?" Dean asked. "Did I do something wrong? I—I don't understand."

"On the contrary, Agent Singer," Henry said. "You've been outstanding. Now," He said, leaning in. "Your security clearance has already been updated, but I want you to know that what I tell you next is not to leave this room, do you understand me? If you reference this conversation to anyone who is ignorant to the following information, I will deny that we ever spoke and you will be shipped off to God-knows-where faster than you can say 'forgive me'. Do you understand?"

Shocked by Henry's intensity, Dean nodded. "Yes sir. I definitely understand."

Henry leaned back in his chair, evidently satisfied. "Your world, Agent," Henry said. "Is so much bigger than you thought it was. We're moving you over to the Counterproliferation branch because we think you're uniquely suited to deal with the threats to this nation's security that would leave the average man crying for his mother."

"And what threats would those be?" Dean asked.

"The supernatural." Henry said. He stood up and peered out the window. "Agent Winchester here can fill you in on the rest of the details—he's been an active member of the branch for quite some time now."

Dean looked at Sam incredulously. "And what exactly does this transfer entail?" He asked.

Henry shrugged. "Demons, angels, werewolves, Hell if I know. Not my department."

"Awesome." Dean muttered. "Can I go?"

Henry nodded. "Yep. You start tomorrow. Agent Winchester will show you where to go. You can clear out your desk sometime this week."

Dean stood up to go, Sam next to him.

"Oh, and Dean?" Henry asked. "You'll probably be assigned a partner."

"I work better on my own." Dean said.

Henry chuckled. "I'll tell them you said that, but I don't think it will make much of a difference. Good night, Dean."

"Night, Henry."

Once they were out of the building, Dean pushed Sam against a wall. Shock had held him together before, but now...

"Supernatural Department?" He demanded.

"Dean…" Sam sighed. "Let go. I'll explain."

Grudgingly, Dean released his grip on Sam's coat.

"Dammit, man, I thought we were friends."

"We are friends,"

"Are we? Because I'd have thought you would've mentioned something like this to me!"

"Dean," Sam said. "You know I couldn't have. I'd have lost my job. And it's not like you'd have believed me anyways. Honestly, do you believe it yet yourself?"

"I don't know what to believe, Sam!" Dean shouted. "I'm not going to question Henry, because he's Henry! But really? Supernatural? How is that even possible? And what do we have to do with it anyways?" He leaned over and tried to take some deep, calming breaths. He'd been doing his best to keep himself together in Henry's office, but now that the weight of it was hitting him, he didn't know what to do. "Does Jess know?" He asked suddenly, turning to look at Sam.

Sam shook his head. "No. She just thinks I'm a regular Fed."

Dean stared at Sam in horror. "And—and what happens when you get mauled by a werewolf or turned into a vamp, assuming they exist, what are they going to tell her then?"

Sam shrugged. "Killed in the line of duty, I guess."

"Killed in the line of—" Dean barked out a short, hysterical laugh. "Right, of course. How can you be so calm about this? How long have you been involved in this—this Supernatural thing."

Sam scratched the back of his head. "Basically, I've known about demons and stuff since I was a kid. The FBI had been interested in hiring me for this department, because I knew about everything already, since I was about seven."

"Seven!?" Dean asked, surprised.

Sam nodded and kicked some dirt around with the toe of his shoe. "Yeah my, uh, my parents got possessed by demons when I was a kid. I came home from school one day and their eyes were all black." He coughed and Dean started as he realized that Sam was trying not to cry. He knew that Sam's parents were dead and that was why he had joined the Bureau, but he had never asked how the people had died. "They didn't do anything, just…got in the car and left. About a week later their bodies washed up in a river halfway across the country. I read their case file when I joined up…they did some pretty messed up stuff when they were possessed, and even though I always tell myself that it wasn't my parents, that it was demons, I'll never be able to…unlearn some of this stuff."

"God, Sam, I'm so sorry."

Sam nodded mutely. "The agent that worked on their case, when I called the police, they sent him in. I didn't think anyone would believe me, but, he did. He kept in touch while I grew up. He died the year before I joined. Dean, I know that it's not easy to accept that there is something supernatural out there, but trust me when I tell you there is,"

"Trust you!" Dean snorted. "Sammy, you've been lying to me since the day we met."

Sam looked hurt. "I'm still your friend, Dean. I told Henry that I thought you'd be good for this job because you're willing to accept some pretty weird things. You're good with the weird cases."

Dean barked out another laugh. "So, what, are you telling me that Jo Harvelle got turned into a vampire or something and that's why I couldn't get any leads?"

Sam hesitated. "Actually, she got attacked by a ghost. But that's not important. Dean, look. I know this is hard to take in, but I think it's a good fit for you." He tentatively put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Now, do you want to go get a beer or something? Talk about this some more?"

Dean shook his head. "No, no. I'm good. I just want to go home and sleep on it."

Sam nodded. "Alright. I'll pick you up tomorrow morning and start showing you the ropes—and Dean?" He asked.

Dean glanced over at Sam. He wasn't sure how he viewed the kid anymore. Sure, Sam had always been a little goofy, but this new information shed a whole new light on him, and Dean didn't know what to think of this new image of his friend.

"Like it or not, you're probably going to get a partner, and that's another reason that I suggested you for this. You're a good agent, and I think you'll be able to…help out some newbies."

"Right. When I'm just going to be a newbie myself." He chuckled and started for the parking garage. "Goodnight, Sammy."

"Night, Dean."

Dean glanced over his shoulder at his friend, framed in the streetlights. Sam looked oddly forlorn against the backdrop of the empty city as he watched Dean walk away, and then Dean turned a corner and Sam was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Next Day**

Dean rubbed his eyes when his alarm went off. For a moment, he was still groggy with the strange remnants from last night's dreams, and he just lay in bed staring around his room. He didn't have much in the way of anything. The walls were painted the same egg-shell blue that they had been when he got the place. His best was old and busted with a worn gray comforter. The nightstand held only the assaulting alarm clock, a picture of he and Sammy as well of another of he and his Uncle Bobby. Some old books had been stacked neatly on the bureau and his suits all hung in a nice row in the open closet. Dean had never really needed much in life and he was immensely proud of the few possessions he did have.

He lay in bed for a few more minutes, letting the grey, pre-dawn light creeping in through the window wash over him, then he shut off the alarm and pulled himself out of bed and began his morning usual morning routine.

He had lived alone for a long time, and, after taking a shower, he made himself an omelet and sat down with his coffee to read the paper. He told himself that he was happy on his own, that it was better this way, but really he knew otherwise. He missed the certain feeling of being loved and having someone to love in turn. In college, before he had come out, he had had a girlfriend, Lisa. They had lived together for a year before she figured out the truth behind his orientation. That year had been one of the happiest years of Dean's life.

A loud knock on the door disturbed him from his morning routine. When he opened the door, Sam was standing there, ready to get to work.

"You ready to go?" Sam asked.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Dean, you got transferred, _remember_?" Sam asked, leaning in. He looked very urgent.

Dean blinked, and then everything hit him. "Oh, _oh, _man, I thought that I dreamed all of that."

"Well," Sam said. "You didn't."

Dean grabbed his jacket and dumped his coffee in a travel mug. He hadn't gotten to finish his omelet, but he couldn't worry about that now. When he had woken up this morning, he had figured that all of last night's crazy events had been a dream; that was the only way to explain it, but now Sam was standing here and Dean's hopes were dashed. He slid into the seat next to Sam and they pulled out of the lot in front of Dean's apartment building and onto the road.

Dean didn't ask where they were headed; he really didn't see the point, but he sipped his coffee and watched the world out his widow. Slowly, the city around them slid away as Sam headed out into a remote area of the suburbs. When they stopped in front of a crummy looking warehouse, Dean eyed it warily. "This can't be it." He said.

Sam shrugged and opened up his door. "Well it is." He smiled a little to himself. "It's a lot more impressive when you see the inside."

Dean raised a skeptical eyebrow, but he followed Sam to the door. There wasn't any obvious security, except a key fob that Sam had to tap against the door before it opened.

"There aren't very many of us, and security is heavier inside." Sam explained.

"Riiight." Dean replied, as if this was obvious. They walked down the hall to the elevator and stood next to each other silently as they descended. A Kansas song drifted through the speakers, chiming softly. Dean hummed along. He had always like classic rock.

When the doors binged open, a short, wiry man with a quick smiled and an almost beard greeted them. He wasn't even wearing a suit; just a grey sweater-vest and a tie. He looked more like Dean's high-school algebra teacher than an FBI agent who specialized in the Supernatural.

"Sam. Good ta see ya," he said. He hugged Sam warmly. His voice had a soft drawling accent. He turned to Dean. "You must be Dean," he said. He ignored Dean's outstretched hand and hugged him instead. "I'm Garth. I guess you could say I'm in charge of this little operation." He gestured to the room in front of them. "This is the bunker."

He, Sam and Garth were standing on a walkway that overlooked a wide space. Immediately below them, a large, back-lit table map of America dominated the center of the room. Different parts of it were lit up, and a girl with bright red hair examined it closely. Other people milled about in a library behind the room with the map or else were tacking things up on the walls.

"We were established in the '40s" Garth said. "World War Two was at it's height, and, well. Let's just say we were fighting more enemies than the public realized."

"What—like Captain America stuff?" Dean asked.

Garth nodded. "That's about right. Joe Simon had a friend that worked with us—not that that's something that gets advertised to the public. We actually did work on a Super solider serum for a bit before we turned our attention elsewhere!" He added as he headed down the stairs. Sam trailed behind him, and Dean, vastly uncertain of his surroundings, tailed behind.

Garth motioned to the room around them. "This is the mission room." He said. "It's where we pick up on threats and post research on current investigations."

Dean looked around the room. Next to the door to the library, a glass desk had been built over a former switch-board and now housed sleek looking desktops. On the other side of the door, a long table had a long line of old-fashioned rotary phones, each labeled with different cities—field offices, Dean guessed.

"That's the research room," Garth said, pointing to the library. "He turned around and pointed to another open doorway on their right. "That leads to all the utilities—kitchen, showers, offices. But what I wanted to show you is this way." He led Dean through the door on the left. Sam slid discreetly off somewhere else, but Dean wasn't really paying attention to him anymore.

"Over here," Garth was explaining. "Is all the cool stuff. The garage and training rooms, for example. Now, come with me and I'll introduce you to your new partner."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Dean said. "Hold up. Partner? I've always worked on my own."

Garth smiled sympathetically. "I know that! But Dean, you see, we're a little bit friendlier around here than those up-tight offices in the city. Every field agent has a partner, just about. It helps this operation run a little smoother and to help the work get done. Now. You're new partner is named Castiel. He's an angel, and he's never worked down here on earth before, so I'm counting on you to show him around, alright?"

"Look, Garth," Dean said. "I'm not really so sure about this."

Garth just chuckled. "Oh, Dean," he said. "That's how everyone usually feels about everything new. But you know what? We do it anyways. Now come on," he said, guiding Dean into another room. "It's time to meet your new best friend!"


	4. Chapter 4

**And Then...**

The room Dean followed Garth into was ridiculously large. It reminded him of an old barn or warehouse, except for the weird sigils that covered virtually every surface.

"What are they for?" Dean asked, gesturing around.

Garth smiled, like if Dean had asked a question he'd been hoping for. "They're wards," Garth replied. "They keep nasty things like demons out."

"Right," Dean said. "Because demons are real. Sorry" He said to Garth. "It's just that…it's a lot to take in. I keep forgetting that they're not just fairytales."

Garth chuckled. "I'm not sure demons qualify as 'fairytales', but you're right: it is a lot to take in, and you're handling it much better than some of our other recruits in the past have. You should be proud of yourself for that-it's not something I get to say very often."

"What would you have done if I had reacted badly?" Dean asked, mildly curious.

Garth lit a match and dropped it in a bowl. "Oh, nothing really. Probably we would've just erased your memories of it all. Sometimes it's true what they say; ignorance is bliss.  
"Now this room is the summoning room. It's where our friends the angels come and go, usually, or where we call them when we need them. We have a similar room for demons downstairs, but that's more of a prison." He laughed softly, but Dean wasn't really paying attention. He was still stuck on the 'erase your memories' bit. Garth had said it so easily and it marked Dean that, for all of Garth's casual kindness, he probably wouldn't hesitate to do what he had to, even kill a man. He hadn't earned this job for nothing, after all.

"Awesome." Dean said in way of acknowledging everything Garth had just said.

"Now I just summoned Castiel and his superior. They should be here—"

With a flash of lighting, an angel appeared. In the moment before the light faded out again, Dean could see his wings stretch out in the space behind him. They were massive and seemed to be made of the shadows. Another angel appeared and as the returned to it's normal dim state, although for a second or two, he was left with the afterimage of the wings imprinted on his eyes. When his vision cleared, Dean was able to get a better look at the two men that now stood in front of him. One of them was in a dirty trench coat. His tie was loose and on backwards. His hair was a rugged mess. What struck Dean first though was the beautiful, piercing ice blue of his eyes. He looked fierce, unyielding. Dean swallowed and glanced away.

The other angel—and equally deadly looking black man with a triangle of freckles under one eye, approached Garth.

"Uriel," Garth said cheerfully. "It's good to see you." He leaned in conspiratorially. "I'm glad you came. Zachariah can be a bit of a zealot."

Uriel smiled tightly. "Garth," He said in way of greeting. His deep voice resonated around the room. He gestured at the angel behind him. "This is Castiel." His eyes landed on Dean. "Is this man to be his partner in this operation of yours?"

Garth grabbed Dean's arm and guided him towards the angels. "Yes. This is Dean Singer. Dean, meet the angel Uriel and your new partner, Castiel."

Dean looked at them blankly; he was still slightly shell-shocked by what had just happened. If he had any doubts about this whole "supernatural" thing, they had been quelled. "Hi." He managed. He was blown away by what had just happened. He had been in the business for a long time, and had thought that he had seen everything worth seeing, but that-that had been something else entirely.

Uriel glanced over him. "He doesn't look like much." He said to Garth.

Garth smiled charitably. "Oh, he's one of the Bureau's best agents, aren't you Dean?"

They both looked at Dean expectantly. He coughed awkwardly. "Yeah, yeah. I mean, yes. I am."

"Hmph." Uriel said. "I'll believe it when I see it. Castiel!" He said, turning to the angel behind him.

Castiel looked at them, turning away from the sigils he had been examining and walked over.

"Castiel, this is Garth and Dean," Uriel said, nodding at each of them in turn.

"Hello." He said. His voice was rough and rich and a little gravely. Dean repressed a shudder at the sound.

Uriel smiled. "Well. I'll leave the rest to you, Garth." He disappeared as quickly as he had come and Garth grinned cheerfully at them. Dean was getting tired of how much he smiled.

"Alrighty." He said, rubbing his hands together in glee. "Alrighty. Let's get you two situated." He led them back out of the summoning room and into the library. He pointed to a little side balcony with a big arm-chair and a small table next to the exit that Dean hadn't noticed when he arrived. "That's where you boys can usually find me if you have any questions, alright? It's not really my office, but I like to be able to watch everyone work." He continued on through the other door he had pointed out to Dean earlier, making small talk as they went along.

They came to a hallway line on either side with doors, some were open, some weren't. "These are the offices," Garth explained. "Although people don't use them for much except for filling out paperwork of being alone, if that's what they want. Most of us hang out in the research room." He looked at Dean sheepishly. "We're very friendly here. Not so much of that 'Agent' stuff and rank that I'm sure you're used to."

Garth produced a large key ring from his pocket and shuffled through until he found the one he was looking for. He slid the ancient key smoothly into the lock and pushed open the door. "This will be your office. Do what you want to it; make it homey, if that's what suits you. I'll send someone by with copies of this ket later." He glanced between them, grinning. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted then. I can just tell you're going to like it here!"

He departed, leaving Dean and Castiel standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"Should we go it?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah, of course,"

Dean walked into the office and looked around. It was bigger than he had expected, but still small. Two antique, but still practical, desks sat facing each other across the room. Their dark mahogany surface reflected the warm light. Angels had been carved into the legs, so it looked like they held the weight on their heads. Empty bookshelves of the same dark wood lined the walls, which were painted a dull tan. There were no windows. The floorboards were faded and weathered oak, but a persian rug had been thrown across the floor. It's edges were frayed.

Dean moved over and sat on the edge of the desk to his left. Castiel stepped in after him and glanced about.

"It's nice," Castiel commented simply.

Dean shrugged. "So your name's Cas, huh?" He took a moment to continue studying his new partner. He wasn't exactly impressed with this so-called "angel".

"Castiel,"

"Whatever, I'm going to call you Cas. It's easier to remember."

Cas stepped forward so he was right in Dean's face. His eyes narrowed. "You should show me some respect."

Dean sighed. "Look, I never asked for this job. I never asked for a partner; frankly, I prefer to work alone. I'm still not entirely certain about what I think about this whole 'supernatural' thing, so I'm sorry if you don't like my attitude. We're partners now, whether we like it or not, so I guess we're both just going to have to deal."

Cas didn't reply, just stepped back and stared at Dean evenly. Dean stared evenly back for several moments before he snorted and left the room. Sam had wandered off shortly after their arrival and Dean wanted to talk to him about everything that was going on. He didn't want to worry about angels and having a partner that already rubbed on his nerves. He couldn't get away from Cas fast enough.


	5. Chapter 5

**However long it took for Dean to find Sam**

Dean walked slowly in the direction one of the agents had pointed him in when he had asked about Sammy. The walls around him were eerily simlar to the hallway he had just come from. He shuddered to think of how easy it would be to get lost in this place. SAm had been right: on the outside, it didn't look like much, but inside, the bunker was packed with top-notch tech and furniture that belonged in a palace somewhere.

He paused as he considered it. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to talk now that he had cooled down some from being with Cas or if he just wanted to continue being on his own. He leaned against the wall and rubbed his hands over his eyes. He had never asked for this life. He had never asked for a weird-ass angel partner. He didn't want to know that the occult was real. He just wanted his old job back in the city where there were no complications and he was saving normal people from normal things.

"Dean?"

Dean looked up to see Sam standing next to him holding two dark-blue plates with sandwiches.

"Oh, Sammy" He said. "I was just looking for you."

"Come on," Sam said, nodding his head down the hall. "My office is over here."

Dean followed Sam down the hallway to an office with an open door. Sam dropped one plate down in front of the room's other occupant, a man with honey blond hair somewhat shorter than Sam's reclining in his captain's chair like if he didn't have a care in the world. He was poking his phone screen with an intense look of concentration and frustration. Dean was pretty sure he was playing flappy bird.

"Here you go, Gabe." He said.

"Thanks, Sammy." Gabe sat up in his seat and looked at Dean. "And who is this fine fellow?"

"Gabe, this Dean Dean, Gabe."

Gabe gaped at him. "You're Dean? _THE_ Dean?"

"Is there anyone else with my name that Sam knows?" Dean grumbled.

Gabe chuckled. "Sorry, but he goes on about you all the time."

Dean looked at Sam curiously. "Really?" He asked.

Sam shrugged and plopped down at his desk,picking at his lunch. "Well…"

Dean chuckled. "Well, I'm flattered." He eyed Gabe. "Are you an angel too?"

Gabe laughed. "Yes. The archangel Gabriel, in fact. But shhh. I prefer the word 'trickster'."

Sam snorted, as if he found that funny, and gestured to an open space on his bookshelf. "Have a seat, Dean. How's your first day going?"

Dean hesitated. "Well…" he started. "I don't know."

Gabe raised his eyebrows. "Uh-oh. What's so bad about it? Don't like your new partner?"

Dean sat down on the indicted spot on the shelf. "Not particularly" He grumbled.

"What wrong with the poor guy? Or is it a chick? Sorry." He wiggled his eyebrows. "I forget that they're letting girls in on this too now. It's a new age!"

Sam glared at Gabe. "What wrong with the girl agents? Some of them are better than you are!"

Gabe studied his plate intently. "Nothing, nothing's wrong with them," he muttered.

"Nah, nah. It's a guy," Dean said, ignoring the exchange that had just passed. He got the feeling that, unlike he and Cas, Sam got along with his partener fairly easily. But then, SAm got along with just about everybody. "And I don't know. He just seems so…uptight."

"What is he? Angel? Vamp? Werewolf? Shifter?"

"Angel." Dean relied. "His name was Castiel, but I'm gonna call him Cas."

Gabe, who had been slowly slumping back in his chair again, bolted up in his seat. "Wait! Your partner is Cas!?"

Sam was giving Gabe a funny look. Evidentally, He had never reacted like this before.

"Yeah…" Dean said, confused by the angel's violent reaction. "Why?"

Gabe started laughing. "Oh, nothing, nothing." He studied Dean for a moment. "I just bet you two are going to make an interesting pair, that's all."

Dean looked at Sam, who shrugged in way of response. Apparently, this wasn't something Gabe did often.

"Where is he now, do you know?" Gabe asked.

Dean glanced at him. "Assuming he hasn't moved—and just guessing from his stiffy nature, he hasn't—he's still in our office. It's down the hall, take a left, then a right, and then another left. Should be the fifth door on the right."

Gabe got up and left the room, chuckling to himself. Sam made a face and Dean settled down in Gabe's chair.

"So how did you end up with an archangel as a partner?"

Sam sighed. "I really don't know. I joined around the time angels were just starting to work with us and Gabe looked at me and said 'I want him'. I didn't really have a choice in the matter, and he's weird, but I like him well enough, so there's that. I could've gotten stuck with some other annoying angel." He opened his laptop and started typing, probably a report.

"Ah."

"Is Cas really that bad?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged again. "Like I said, he's a stiff."

Sam shot Dean a quick look. "Practically all of them are, especially when they first arrive. Are you OK with it, though? I know one of the main reasons you've avoided having a partner all these years is because you're not sure how they'll react to you being…you know…"

"Gay?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." Sam went back to typing. Dean studied him for a moment.

"You know Sam, I've never really asked you about it, but how do you feel about me being…well, me? You've never bothered me about it, so I assumed, well, I assumed that you were alright with it."

Sam stared at Dean, looking peeved. "I am alright with it. I just know you get sensitive about it."

"I'm not sensitive!" Dean objected.

"Riiight,"

Dean examined the room around him instead of gracing that with a response. Behind Sam, books on various mythical creatures and occult studies sat on the bottom two shelves, many in foreign languages. Above that, Sam had placed pictures of he and Jess, and to Dean's surprise, he and Dean. Various weapons hung from pegs on the wall as well as newspaper clippings about weird crimes. A bulletin board held remains of a case outline, probably one that Sam had just finished working on. Looking closer, Dean could see mentions of Jo Harvelle. He swallowed and looked away.

"So how do you even approach these cases?" He asked instead. "I mean, how do you know what caused what and so such?"

"Same way you do any other case," Sam replied. "Research. Lots and lots of research. You'll probably have to do a basic quiz on all your supernatural creatures before you get a real case on your own and stuff."

"Wait—" Dean asked. "How often does supernatural crime even happen?"

"About as often as normal crime, actually." Sam said. "What's hard is sorting out what's normal and what's supernatural."

"And who gets that fun job?"

"Some of the higher-ups." Sam said absently. He squinted at something on his computer screen, pausing in typing for a moment. "Garth, too." He stood up, tucking his laptop neatly under his arm. "Look, Dean, you can hang around here all you want, but I need to go look at some stuff in the research room. Garth just sent me a new case."

Dean stood up and stretched. "Yeah. I better go make friends with Cas or finish exploring or something. Maybe some research wouldn't hurt either."

Sam chuckled. "If I recall correctly, you never did like research." He turned around and pulled a beaten journal off his bookshelf. "Here—take this. That Agent that first introduced me to all this? It's his. Everything he knew about the Supernatural is in there. I've added some stuff in the end as well."

"Thanks, Sammy." Dean said.

"No problem, Dean." He walked out, but a second later, he leaned back in. "Meet me in here at five and I'll give you a ride home. They don't issue you cars here, by the way, so you can drive that piece of shit impala around if you want to."

"Don't criticize my baby!" Dean objected, but Sam just walked away laughing. Dean glanced around a final time before he left too. He wasn't eager to talk to Cas again, but at the same time, getting lost in these hallways didn't sound like much fun either. He stared down at the leather journal in his hands.

"Better get to work on this," he muttered to himself before he started back towards his own little personal hell.


	6. Chapter 6

**Later that Day**

Dean pulled into the bunker's garage and got out of his beautiful impala. His Uncle Bobby had given it to him permanently after Dean had left for college, but Dean had been fond of the old car since the moment he saw it when he was twelve. Sam stepped out of his car and walked over to greet Dean. He looked at the gleaming black impala with something Dean could only describe as pity for an unworthy object of Dean's affection. Dean spread himself protectively over the car.

"Don't you look at my baby like that!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Sometimes, Dean," He said, "I really start to think that you need to stop loving that car so much and get laid."

Dean glared at him. "Easy for you to say. You're a straight, handsome male with a girlfriend of two years, currently your fiancée, soon to be your wife. Getting laid for you is a matter of coming home with puppy eyes."

Sam smirked. "I'm sorry you feel that way," He joked.

Dean was doing his best to come up with a snappy retort when Garth and Cas walked up.

"You boys ready to head out?" Garth asked.

Dean smiled tightly. "Ready as I'll ever be."

The supernatural Department also apparently lacked the necessary funds to fly Sam, Dean and Cas out to Oklahoma City, so it was up to them to take a road trip out there. Before he had been able to leave to get a change of clothes, several other agents had shown him how to make his car a movable arsenal for hunting anything that went bump in the night. At first, he'd been uncertain of the change, but now he was even more proud of his baby.

Cas looked at Dean's car, obviously unimpressed. "This is your car?" He asked.

Dean crossed his arms. "Yeah. Why? Care to comment?"

"It doesn't look very safe, that's all. I'm sure some of the newer models—"

Sam was glancing between them like if he was worried that Dean was about to throw a punch. He laughed nervously, cutting Cas off. "Alright. I think it's about time we hit the road, what do you think, Dean?"

Dean was still glaring at Cas. "Yeah, fine whatever," he muttered.

Garth's smile broadened. "OK, boys. Call me when you reach Oklahoma City." He handed Dean and Cas a manila filing folder. "Here's a copy of the case file, you'll find new badges in there as well. Castiel, you'll be investigating under the guise of 'Agent Stills' as angels don't have last names and 'Castiel' will stand out. Good luck, boys! I'll see you when you get back!"

Dean nodded and slid back into his car. Cas made a move for the passenger seat, but Sam beat him to it.

"Dean, as your partner—"

"Quit, yapping, Feathers, and get in the back seat already! This drive is going to take long enough."

Cas slid into the back seat with a quiet "hrumph"

Everyone was quiet as Dean pulled out of the garage. The silence lasted for five minutes before Cas spoke up again. "Are there no seatbelts back here?"

Dean wanted to stop the car and kick him out, but he forced himself to stay calm and keep driving. "Sammy?" He asked tightly.

Sam sighed. "Rule number one, Cas, no insulting, complaining about, or commenting on any perceived shortcomings of this Impala, aka, his Baby."

Cas looked at Dean curiously in the rearview mirror. "You refer to your car as one would refer to a small child?"

Dean continued to focus on the road. He refused to let someone judge his relationship with his car like this and grace their thoughts with a response.

"He's very fond of his car," Sam supplied. "He's been repairing it since he was 12, driving it around since he was 16, and officially in ownership of it since he was 18. Since then, it has never had a scratch, gotten in a crash, or been damaged in any way. Dean only trusts himself to do maintenance on it."

"I do not understand your attachment to an object which just hurts your environment and will eventually break down."

Dean couldn't handle it anymore. He hit the brakes abruptly and cringed at the sound it made—so not good for the brake pads, but if he didn't address this now, he was going to murder Cas as soon as he had an opening.

"Listen," He said, swinging around. Cas didn't even flinch, which just made Dean want to hit him more. "You will not dis my car, do you understand? Right now, I like this car more than I like you, hell, I like Justin Bieber more than I like you, and that's saying something. You are going to shut your pie hole. You understand me?"

Cas blinked. "Who's Justin Bieber?" He asked.

Dean groaned and spun back around. "I—I don't even know what to say that."

"Lucky bastard." Sam muttered.

"Sam?" Cas appealed as Dean pulled back onto the road. "Who is Justin Bieber?"

"Don't worry about it, Cas, ok?"

"Why does everyone call me that?"

"What?"

"Cas."

"Because it's easier that 'Castiel'."

"But it's not my name."

Dean smirked as he listened to this conversation play out. Don't even bother, Sammy. He thought to himself. The Stiff just doesn't get it.

"I know it's not, Cas." Sam said. "But it's just simpler to remember."

"But it's not my name." Cas insisted again.

"Just—don't worry about it Cas, OK?"

Cas frowned, but he didn't push the topic further.

They drove through the night and Sam fell asleep in the seat next to Dean. Cas stayed diligently awake, looking out the window at the dark night. Dean supposed idly that if he was ever going to bond with his partner, now was the time, but he pushed the thought away firmly and reached over and grabbed the shoe-box full of cassette tapes in Sam's lap. He handed it back to Cas.

"Find the one that says 'Led Zeppelin', he instructed. He listened as Cas sorted through the old tapes and smiled when one was pressed into his hand.

"What are these?" Cas asked.

"Music." Dean said. "Sam gets annoyed because I don't have presets, can't play CDs, and can't hook and iPod up to my radio, but I like my tapes."

"How does this play music?" Cas asked.

"Don't worry about it Cas. I thought I told you to be quiet."

CAs was silent for a long time after that. "Dean?" Has asked finally.

"What?" Dean snapped. He was getting tired. It was a 21 hour drive from DC to Oklahoma City and he still had an hour to go before he and Sam switched driving.

"Nothing," Cas said wearily, but from the sound of his voice, Dean could tell that he had wanted to ask something else.

The silence endured until Dean shook Sam awake and hour later. It was two thirty and even the convenience store attached to the gas station where Dean had stopped to fuel up and switch drivers was dark inside. He squinted past the bright industrial lights, trying to see the stars before he slid into the passenger seat.

"What are you looking at, Dean?" Cas asked.

Dean glanced at the angel in the back seat before turning his attention back to the night sky. "I'm trying to see the stars, Cas."

Cas sighed. "There used to be a lot more stars in the sky. I remember when there were so many that you creatures here below could stumble along by their light just as easily as you could when the sun shone down."

That caught Dean's attention. "How old are you, Cas?"

"I've been here since before the dawn of time, Dean. I've watched civilizations rise and prosper I've watched war raze the world and the world has always spun on and I have always remained. You humans have such fleeting lives, for you what seems eternal is barely a hiccup to everything I have seen."

Dean chose not to comment on the cheery thought, but suddenly, he did not want to see the stars in all their pale, impassive glory. He slid into the car and leaned back. "Wake me up in seven hours. I'll drive the rest of the way."

Sam nodded and they pulled away. The moment he closed his eyes, Dean was pulled into a dream.


	7. Chapter 7

**Later that Day**

Dean pulled into the bunker's garage and got out of his beautiful impala. His Uncle Bobby had given it to him permanently after Dean had left for college, but Dean had been fond of the old car since the moment he saw it when he was twelve. Sam stepped out of his car and walked over to greet Dean. He looked at the gleaming black impala with something Dean could only describe as pity for an unworthy object of Dean's affection. Dean spread himself protectively over the car.

"Don't you look at my baby like that!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Sometimes, Dean," He said, "I really start to think that you need to stop loving that car so much and get laid."

Dean glared at him. "Easy for you to say. You're a straight, handsome male with a girlfriend of two years, currently your fiancée, soon to be your wife. Getting laid for you is a matter of coming home with puppy eyes."

Sam smirked. "I'm sorry you feel that way," He joked.

Dean was doing his best to come up with a snappy retort when Garth and Cas walked up.

"You boys ready to head out?" Garth asked.

Dean smiled tightly. "Ready as I'll ever be."

The supernatural Department also apparently lacked the necessary funds to fly Sam, Dean and Cas out to Oklahoma City, so it was up to them to take a road trip out there. Before he had been able to leave to get a change of clothes, several other agents had shown him how to make his car a movable arsenal for hunting anything that went bump in the night. At first, he'd been uncertain of the change, but now he was even more proud of his baby.

Cas looked at Dean's car, obviously unimpressed. "This is your car?" He asked.

Dean crossed his arms. "Yeah. Why? Care to comment?"

"It doesn't look very safe, that's all. I'm sure some of the newer models—"

Sam was glancing between them like if he was worried that Dean was about to throw a punch. He laughed nervously, cutting Cas off. "Alright. I think it's about time we hit the road, what do you think, Dean?"

Dean was still glaring at Cas. "Yeah, fine whatever," he muttered.

Garth's smile broadened. "OK, boys. Call me when you reach Oklahoma City." He handed Dean and Cas a manila filing folder. "Here's a copy of the case file, you'll find new badges in there as well. Castiel, you'll be investigating under the guise of 'Agent Stills' as angels don't have last names and 'Castiel' will stand out. Good luck, boys! I'll see you when you get back!"

Dean nodded and slid back into his car. Cas made a move for the passenger seat, but Sam beat him to it.

"Dean, as your partner—"

"Quit, yapping, Feathers, and get in the back seat already! This drive is going to take long enough."

Cas slid into the back seat with a quiet "hrumph"

Everyone was quiet as Dean pulled out of the garage. The silence lasted for five minutes before Cas spoke up again. "Are there no seatbelts back here?"

Dean wanted to stop the car and kick him out, but he forced himself to stay calm and keep driving. "Sammy?" He asked tightly.

Sam sighed. "Rule number one, Cas, no insulting, complaining about, or commenting on any perceived shortcomings of this Impala, aka, his Baby."

Cas looked at Dean curiously in the rearview mirror. "You refer to your car as one would refer to a small child?"

Dean continued to focus on the road. He refused to let someone judge his relationship with his car like this and grace their thoughts with a response.

"He's very fond of his car," Sam supplied. "He's been repairing it since he was 12, driving it around since he was 16, and officially in ownership of it since he was 18. Since then, it has never had a scratch, gotten in a crash, or been damaged in any way. Dean only trusts himself to do maintenance on it."

"I do not understand your attachment to an object which just hurts your environment and will eventually break down."

Dean couldn't handle it anymore. He hit the brakes abruptly and cringed at the sound it made—so not good for the brake pads, but if he didn't address this now, he was going to murder Cas as soon as he had an opening.

"Listen," He said, swinging around. Cas didn't even flinch, which just made Dean want to hit him more. "You will not dis my car, do you understand? Right now, I like this car more than I like you, hell, I like Justin Bieber more than I like you, and that's saying something. You are going to shut your pie hole. You understand me?"

Cas blinked. "Who's Justin Bieber?" He asked.

Dean groaned and spun back around. "I—I don't even know what to say that."

"Lucky bastard." Sam muttered.

"Sam?" Cas appealed as Dean pulled back onto the road. "Who is Justin Bieber?"

"Don't worry about it, Cas, ok?"

"Why does everyone call me that?"

"What?"

"Cas."

"Because it's easier that 'Castiel'."

"But it's not my name."

Dean smirked as he listened to this conversation play out. Don't even bother, Sammy. He thought to himself. The Stiff just doesn't get it.

"I know it's not, Cas." Sam said. "But it's just simpler to remember."

"But it's not my name." Cas insisted again.

"Just—don't worry about it Cas, OK?"

Cas frowned, but he didn't push the topic further.

They drove through the night and Sam fell asleep in the seat next to Dean. Cas stayed diligently awake, looking out the window at the dark night. Dean supposed idly that if he was ever going to bond with his partner, now was the time, but he pushed the thought away firmly and reached over and grabbed the shoe-box full of cassette tapes in Sam's lap. He handed it back to Cas.

"Find the one that says 'Led Zeppelin', he instructed. He listened as Cas sorted through the old tapes and smiled when one was pressed into his hand.

"What are these?" Cas asked.

"Music." Dean said. "Sam gets annoyed because I don't have presets, can't play CDs, and can't hook and iPod up to my radio, but I like my tapes."

"How does this play music?" Cas asked.

"Don't worry about it Cas. I thought I told you to be quiet."

CAs was silent for a long time after that. "Dean?" Has asked finally.

"What?" Dean snapped. He was getting tired. It was a 21 hour drive from DC to Oklahoma City and he still had an hour to go before he and Sam switched driving.

"Nothing," Cas said wearily, but from the sound of his voice, Dean could tell that he had wanted to ask something else.

The silence endured until Dean shook Sam awake and hour later. It was two thirty and even the convenience store attached to the gas station where Dean had stopped to fuel up and switch drivers was dark inside. He squinted past the bright industrial lights, trying to see the stars before he slid into the passenger seat.

"What are you looking at, Dean?" Cas asked.

Dean glanced at the angel in the back seat before turning his attention back to the night sky. "I'm trying to see the stars, Cas."

Cas sighed. "There used to be a lot more stars in the sky. I remember when there were so many that you creatures here below could stumble along by their light just as easily as you could when the sun shone down."

That caught Dean's attention. "How old are you, Cas?"

"I've been here since before the dawn of time, Dean. I've watched civilizations rise and prosper I've watched war raze the world and the world has always spun on and I have always remained. You humans have such fleeting lives, for you what seems eternal is barely a hiccup to everything I have seen."

Dean chose not to comment on the cheery thought, but suddenly, he did not want to see the stars in all their pale, impassive glory. He slid into the car and leaned back. "Wake me up in seven hours. I'll drive the rest of the way."

Sam nodded and they pulled away. The moment he closed his eyes, Dean was pulled into a dream.


	8. Chapter 8

**While Sam is driving**

_He was walking through the maze of cars that surrounded his Uncle Bobby's house. It was important that he find Bobby, but he couldn't remember why. Every time he turned towards where the house should have been, he was met with another isle of cars that looked just like the one he had just come out of. He'd turn around, thinking that he could go back, but it'd be closed off. _

"_Bobby!" He screamed, breaking into a run "Uncle Bobby!"_

_He tripped and fell and around him, one by one, the cars burst into flame. He scrambled to get back on his feet and started running again. "BOBBY!" He screamed, his voice tinged with a new desperation. _

_Suddenly, he wasn't in the car lot anymore. He was in Bobby's house—no, his house. Back in Lawrence, and he couldn't find the front door. His Dad had just pointed out the door, where was the door? He turned the corner and a wall of fire greeted him, back the other way and still more fire. He was going to die here consumed by the tongues of flame that licked at his feet. He couldn't get out. There was no way out. He tripped on a loose floorboard and onto his back. He could see the sky. He could see the stars. _

"_Look at the stars, Sweetheart,"_ _His mom said. She was lying on the floor next to him. She smiled. "They're angels, you know. Angels are watching out for us."_

"_Mom?" He asked tentatively. _

_She winked. "Smile at the angels, Sweetheart. They're gonna save us. Don't you worry."_

_The fire crept in…_

"Dean? Oh, he's alright."

"I don't know why he doesn't like me."

Someone laughed—Sam. "Dean doesn't particularly _like _anybody. He's had a rough time of things. He doesn't like forming attachments."

"No," Cas replied. "This seems…personal. Besides, he likes you."

As Dean slowly drifted awake, the conversation became clearer, like a picture coming into focus. His face was pressed up against the window and his seatbelt was cutting uncomfortably into his neck, but he didn't move. They were talking about him.

Sam sighed. "I don't know what to tell you, Cas, besides what I've already said; you need to give him time to get used to things around here. Dean likes me because we've known each other for years. Trust me, when we first met, he gave me the cold shoulder too."

"But I bet he never called you a stiff," Cas muttered.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Nothing."

They were quiet for a few seconds and Dean took that as his cue to "wake up". He groaned and shifted so he was sitting normally. He stretched out his arms as well as he could in the cramped space of the car and looked at the landscape around them.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"We're about to hit Memphis." Sam said. He glanced over. "Hey—did you sleep well? You were mumbling and stuff. I couldn't make it out though."

"Yeah," Dean said, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah, I'm fine. What time is it? Have you gotten breakfast yet?"

"Eight thirty-ish. You only slept for, like, six hours. We can get breakfast in Memphis if you want."

Dean nodded. "Sounds good. We still set to be in Oklahoma City around three today?"

Sam nodded. "That's right. Do you want to wait a day when we get there to get settled or…"

Dean smiled ruefully. "Oh, Sammy, don't you know me at all? We've gotta gank this thing don't we? Better we do it sooner rather than later, if you ask me."

"I agree with Dean." Cas said quietly. "While Garth may not consider this a serious case, I do think efficiency is a good idea."

Dean raised his eyebrows, but otherwise didn't show any sign of surprise about Cas' support. He reached over and flipped on the radio. Some Elvis song was playing and Dean crinkled his nose. He had never really enjoyed Elvis.

"Can I change it?" He asked Sam. Sam nodded, but some instinct made him glance in the back seat. "Hey Cas, you like Elvis?"

Cas looked as confused as ever. "Who?"

Dean shook his head, "Never mind. He's a singer, that's all." He played with tuner until music came blasting through the speakers. He grinned. "Hey, I love this song!"

Sam looked at him funny. "What even is it?"

"It's Zeppelin, Man! Ramble On!"

"I don't know who that is either," Cas piped up.

Dean turned around. "Led Zeppelin is one of the best bands to have ever graced this earth with their sweet, sweet music. Their music is wonderful and anyone who tells you otherwise is lying."

"And one of Dean's favorite bands, so he might be a bit biased."

"Well, it's better than the crap that kids listen to nowadays, and certainly better than what you listen to!"

"My music is very good, thank you." Sam objected.

"Name one band that you listen to that's actually good."

"They're all good!"

"I beg to differ!"

Cas leaned forward. "I don't know any bands." He said.

Dean grinned at him. "Well then, I guess I'm just going to have to teach you then."

Slowly, Cas smiled back. Dean suddenly looked away, as if he had suddenly caught himself doing something he wasn't supposed to. "Hey—pull over here, Sammy." He said, nodding to a fast food place coming up. We can get breakfast here and stay on the road. The sooner we get to Oklahoma City the better."

He could feel Cas and Sam staring at him, but he didn't say anything. He could hear his mother whispering in his ear. _Angels are watching out for us. _Yeah, right. He didn't know what had brought on his old nightmare, but he had a few guesses and none of them were good. He just wanted to be left alone while he recovered.

The waffles that Sam brought for him were mushy and tasted like artificial sweetener, but Dean ate them. Cas turned down the offer of breakfast. Apparently angels didn't need to eat or sleep. Dean didn't argue with him. His waffles sat like a rock in his stomach for the rest of the morning. He was happy when he took the wheel again an hour later.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. The Impala moved along like it was never going to stop and Arkansas fell behind them like the haze of memory. When they reach Oklahoma, at Sam's insistence, they stopped at a Taco joint for a quick lunch and sat down on the picnic tables outside to eat. A cool spring breeze picked at Cas' trench coat. Dean yawned.

"Do you want me to take over after this?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "Nah. We only have three hours or so left. I can make it. Sun's making me tired, that's all."

Sam nodded and smiled at Cas, who was reading all the different carvings on the table. "Having fun there, Cas?" He asked.

Cas frowned. "I don't understand what this one means," He said, pointing. "All the other's seem be names as humans are desperate to be remembered, or otherwise declarations of eternal love, which it silly, but I don't know what this means."

Dean looked down at his tacos. Cas' speech had made him momentarily forget his appetite. Sam leaned over to see what he was pointing at and laughed. "It's a slur, Cas," He explained. "An insult."

Cas frowned. "Why would someone write that?"

"Because they felt like it," Dean said. "We don't know. That's the mystery. Why would anyone carve something onto this table at all?"

Cas sighed. "Humans. They never cease to baffle me."

"Yeah, we can be a bit confusing," Sam said. He glanced at Dean. "Some of us more than others. You just have to remember that most of the time people aren't specifically directing their anger or stress at you and try to help them out."

"Thank you, Sam."

Sam shrugged. "I'm happy to help. Now come on. We should be getting on the road if we still want to get there in time."


	9. Chapter 9

**Later that Day in Oklahoma City**

They pulled up to the address Garth had given them for the police station around three thirty, which was a little later than Dean would have liked, but he didn't mind so much. They went to the coroner's office almost immediately to look at the body. Sam and Dean peeled off their jackets and slid on plastic aprons to look at the corpse. Sam handed Dean the case file while he pulled out the heart and Cas looked over the body.

"This man wasn't on drugs and he hasn't been ill for a long time." Cas looked up. "Which makes this incident all the more interesting. You said you thought it was a witch who did this, Sam?"

Sam nodded and looked expectantly at Dean, who chuckled.

"I don't understand." Cas said.

Dean smirked. "While it is lovely that you can tell us….whatever useful thing it was that you just told us…I bet you can't tell me why Sam thinks a witch did this."

"But you have a guess."

"Yes, of course. But I want to hear yours."

"Perhaps someone was jealous of his wealth or his good health—"

Sam looked like he was trying to hold off a laugh, but he shook his head and looked down at the heart instead. Sam, for as long as Dean had known him, had never been a fan of getting acquainted with organs from a dead man. He frowned deeply.

Dean made a sound like a buzzer from a game show and cut Cas off. "Wrong. Interesting that someone would kill because they're jealous of another man's health, but still wrong. He was having an affair, Feathers. And I bet his wife wasn't too pleased when she found out."

"So the wife's the witch!" Cas said.

"Now you're getting it. Now come on. I want to go talk to the wife."

"Now?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "Now." He glanced down at the heart and then innocently back at Cas. "Be my valentine?" He asked.

"What?"

Sam shot Dean a look that reminded him of how his mother looked at him when he had teased other kids in kindergarten. He shrugged.

"Jeez, Sammy, it was just a joke."

Sam rolled his eyes, but he put away the heart and they left.

The victim's wife—Dean had learned early to distance himself from these people—was surprised when she answered the door to find three FBI agent's, but she quickly got over it. She sat down at a table in the front room and Dean quietly pulled out a chair and sat across from her.

"I've already talked to the regular police," She said. "They told me it was drugs."

Dean smiled thinly. "I think you and I both know that your husband wasn't the type to take drugs."

She slumped. "I know, which is why I was so confused when this happened. Do you think—do you think someone did this on purpose?"

Dean stared her down. "Well that's what I'm asking you."

She opened and shut her mouth several times as the implication of what he was saying hit her. "You—you think _I _did this? What? NO! I loved Gary!"

"Even though he was having an affair?"

She suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "I don't want to talk about that."

Dean nodded and looked meaningfully at Sam. "Alrighty then. Glad to have talked to you."

He stood up to go, but when he got to the door, he paused. Cas was…smiling. "I'll handle this." He said. "I've done research I can crack her."

Sam looked like he was about the object, but Cas was already stepping up to the table. She looked at him strangely, and then her eyes flittered to Dean. He frowned, unsure of what exactly was going on. Cas slapped the table and everyone jumped.

"WHY DID YOU KILL YOU HUSBAND?"

Dean sighed. "Agent Stills?" He called. Sam wasn't exactly scowling at him, but he didn't look happy either.

Cas trotted over. "I was being the bad cop," He said.

"You were being bad _everything."_ Dean said. "Now come on, let's go."

Sam leaned around the corner and looked at the wife. "I'm sorry—he's new. We'll be in touch. Thank you for your help!"

Dean marched Cas forcefully outside then shoved him into the Impala without a word. It was only once they had pulled away and gone a few blocks that he began ranting.

"What is your problem, Cas? I mean, I know, I get it. You haven't been walking among us very long—you have no idea what it's like to be human, but really? _Really?_ Who makes a mistake as dumb as the one you just made? Cas, real life doesn't play out the same way it does on TV or in the movies—usually, it's much, much different. The reason we pretend those things are, though, is because it comforts us to realize that there's a life different that the one we lead. It's a way to escape—of course it isn't real! Cas, for now it's best if you hold back. If you have a question about how an investigation works, ask me or Sam, hell, call Garth if you want to, but right now, whatever you do, _don't _do anything like that again, you hear me?"

Sam was looking at him funny, but Dean was more focused on looking at Cas in the rear-view mirror. "You understand Cas?" He asked again.

Slowly Cas nodded and Dean let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He glanced at Sam, who was chuckling softly.

"What?" He asked.

Sam smiled. "Nothing, it's just, I was right. You are a good teacher."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Sammy."

Under Sam's guidance, they were able to make their way through the case quickly. Turns out it hadn't been jealous wife turned malevolent witch (she'd been sleeping with the neighbor), but rather a nursing home doctor taking advantage of a psychic in his charge. Gary had never been a target, just in the wrong place at the wrong time, really, the guy had been after safety deposit boxes. Once they had everything sorted out—Dean wasn't entirely surprised that they dealt with criminals charged with Supernatural crimes slightly differently than those charged with normal ones—it was time to head back home. Dean drove into Sammy's shift, which made Sam mad, but Dean didn't really care. Ever since his nightmare on the way down to Oklahoma City, he hadn't been eager to sleep. He hadn't been bothered with nightmares for years and he wasn't eager to fall back into the familiar cycle. As for Cas, Dean still didn't know what to think about his partner.

Throughout the entire investigation, following the incident with the victim's wife, Cas had remained respectful, referring to Sam or Dean when he was uncertain of protocol and otherwise willing to stand back and watch the two of them work. It was strange, Dean thought, how the angel was getting under his skin. Dean had never been one to believe in Angels, that is, he hadn't dared to let him believe in a God of any sort since he was a little kid, and he was finally starting to admit to himself that part of his problem with Cas was that Cas forced him to believe in everything he didn't want to believe in. Cas's presence dredged up painful memories for Dean, and he didn't like it. At the same time, though, the little dork was growing on him, and that scared him.

He was happy when they got to DC to part ways with everybody, and overall, he was feeling better about his new job. Things were looking up, that was, in a general manner. He still missed leading a normal life and having a relatively normal job, but he didn't mind this so much. He had hope for his future, and, from what Sam had said, a general and tentative idea of how he was going to treat Cas in the future. Garth was proud of him, too, which felt strange. Dean was determined to try and treat his overly cheerful boss better too. He smiled as he flicked off the light, back home in his own bed that night.

"Things are looking up, Singer," He mumbled to himself. "They really are."


End file.
